10 Minutes to Go
by soulnecklace
Summary: With her carbon-fibre fan and engineered shoes, Ella has a very specific skill set. She's at the ball to do a job, but it must be done by midnight - and the clock is ticking...


**Author's note:**

**I wanted to make this a cross over with The Avengers but couldn't find it as an option. So here it is, as a version of a well-known fairy tale. Enjoy.**

His breath stinks. I can't wait to get out of here.

The unyielding shoes pinch my feet, and – ouch! – again, he stands on my toes. Despite their fragile appearance, the shoes are highly engineered and fortunately, they can handle the weight of his fat feet. The music stops. Thank God. How can one dance to the plucking of strings and the scraping of catgut? I prefer something with beat and rhythm.

"Just one more waltz," he pleads, wiping his face with his kerchief. I glance at the clock. Just ten minutes to go.

"I'm very thirsty, sir," I say, fanning my face. I peer up at him over the top of the lace and smile, so my dimples show. Like butter, he melts.

"My lady," he says, "I will provide." He bows, one arm crossed over his chest. I suspect he's trying to hide his stomach, but he's not successful. How could you hide something so large? He threads his way through the throng crowding the bar. I wipe my hands on my dress; his fingers are slimy.

It's a relief to get rid of him. I know his son agrees. After all, it was the Prince who approached me.

"I'm tired of watching my father pour through my inheritance," he had whispered. "And I understand that you, you have a very specific skill-set."

"Talk to my godmother," I had told him.

"How dare you?" A hiss from behind. It's Seraphina, my so-called sister.

"You little slut!" Madelina, the other 'sister'.

I smile and unfurl my fan. "My dear sisters. How lovely to see you. And are you enjoying this glorious evening?" I peer behind them. "And your partners? Are they absent, perchance? Or has," and I close my fan with a snap, "no-one asked you to dance?"

They step towards me, nails outstretched. As if on cue, my partner returns and my sisters are suddenly all false smiles.

"Oh thank you, your Majesty," I say, as he hands me a glass of champagne. He glances at my sisters, no doubt noticing the family resemblance. Everyone does. No one realizes that although we look alike, my sisters are far, far nastier than I. They are also far richer; my father left them all his fortune. How can you contest a will when you have no funds to do so?

"Allow me to introduce my sisters. Seraphina," and she drops a curtsey. The girl is always untidy; this evening she has strawberry seeds caught in her teeth, giving her a most unfortunate appearance. "And Madelina."

Madelina spreads her skirts and essays a curtsey. Her balance, never the best, is worsened by drink and she stumbles. Reaching for support, she pulls on the King's arm.

"Madam!" Horrified, he steps back and his glass goes flying, spraying champagne over me.

"My Lady Ella," he appears distraught, and waves for a lackey. "Shall I show these creatures out?"

My sisters gasp and for a wonderful few seconds I savor their humiliation. But business is business, after all, and the interruption is very convenient, so I smile up at him most sweetly. "My Liege, I am sure it was an accident. But, if you could show me a place where I can clean up?"

I glance at the clock. Three minutes. I need to get out of here.

As the rest room door closes, I heave a sigh of relief. Two minutes. I struggle out of the lace confection of a dress and throw the uncomfortable glass slippers in the trash. Flinging open the window, I inhale the cool night air with pleasure. These balls are so stuffy; mannered and poorly ventilated, full of high-class idiots speaking in drawling accents. Really, they won't be missed at all.

Unraveling the rope that's been tucked between my shoulder blades, I throw the weighted end out towards the castle ramparts. I'd practiced this so often; like a dream, it catches first time.

Inserting the groove of my carbon fiber fan onto the rope, I climb onto the windowsill. _Don't look down, Ella__. _ I fling myself out the window, holding tight to the struts of the fan. The night breeze blows my hair into my eyes as I skim across the courtyard. Like midnight, my skin is dark; clad as I am in black leather undergarments, it would be hard to spot me against the night. I clamber over the ramparts unremarked.

At the other side of the wall, the coach is waiting. "Good timing," says a cracked voice. "Drive on, Jerry."

The whip cracks and we lumber away.

"The slippers?"

"I left them in the trash can, like you said."

"Good. Your sisters are there? And the King?"

I nod, then because it's too dark to see, add, "Yes. All three."

"Excellent," she says cheerfully and brings her wand down with a thwack! Stars leap from its tip, out into the night, reaching over the ramparts and into the castle, earthing in the special glass of the slippers, that promptly

Explode.

As I say, these are very well designed shoes. Not comfortable, but oh, so beautifully engineered.

Behind us, the chateau is enveloped in flame.

We drive off into the night.

"The Prince will be pleased that tonight went well," says my godmother. "And no doubt your father's lawyers. They always felt his will was unfair. Three annoyances, fixed in one evening. Well done, my dear." She leans back against the cushions. "I think I'll settle down."

She pushes back her hood. In the fire's glow I can see her smile. "Grow pumpkins or something."


End file.
